


Of Ravens and Crows

by Tallianna_Sulbane



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Timeline, Blades, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Diplomatic Immunity Quest, Established Relationship, F/F, Flashbacks, Grief, Imperial Dragonborn, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lore Compliant, Morthal, Psychological Torture, Romance, Thalmor, Thalmor Embassy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-25 10:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15638559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallianna_Sulbane/pseuds/Tallianna_Sulbane
Summary: Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone is invited to a party at the Thalmor embassy. It is a party she has no particular interest in attending, but a party that she is unable to ignore. The evening turns into quite a memorable matter when she recognises a face amoungst the crowd. A beautiful woman she knows well. The young Raven's loyal Crow.A tale, told in snippets, of the life shared between the newly crowned Jarl and her loyal Housecarl. Their adventures, losses, and their love for eachother.





	1. In the pool of shadows

"Lila?"

The young woman turned slowly, keeping her troublesome heart as quiet as she could, despite her immediate terror. Her pale eyes shifted across the candle soaked stone, to a figure illuminated in warm amber, tall, proud, wearing the unflinching mantle of her mother with only the slightest hint of ill fitting. She fixed the new Jarl with a well-practiced steady smile, though her gaze remained anxious.

"It is good to see you my Lady" she replied softly, cautious that her lilting accent should reach no ears but hers, careful that no one would notice their exchange was a familiar one.

Idgrod had the good sense of mind, honed over her long youth of training in the nature of courtly politics, to do the same, tilting her darkly crowned head towards the far corner of the room, where the already low light flickered almost out of existence, shrouding the stones in cool pool of secure shadows.

Lila gave an almost imperceptible nod and walked across to the corner. Once there she leant against the wall, smoky eyes flitting amongst the faces of the guests, their shine the only clear feature in the gloom. No one seemed to have noticed.

Idgrod drifted among the guests for a little while longer, making small talk with no one of consequence or standing, always keeping the shadowed corner at the edge of her sight. Then, taking up a pretty crystal glass with a finely twisted stem, sweet Aldmiri wine held within, she made her way across to Lila.

The stone was cool against her side as she leant beside the young woman. Here they seemed cut off from the room, Idgrod’s shoulders set squarely to block the mingling dignitaries from view. "I'm sure you have good reasons for being here" Idgrod murmured, her rich Nordic voice edged with no small amount of suspicion. She lifted her wine to her lips and sipped, watching the pale eyes of the other woman flit about her guarded expression. In the shelter of her own shadow the Jarl reached out across the cool void between them, touching the woven fabric of Lila’s dress, pressing lightly at a spot just above the curve of her hip.

There was little indication that the Imperial had noticed, except for the slight shift of her waist as it curved towards Idgrod’s touch. "Not my choice of locality I assure you" The very corner of her lips lifted in a crooked little smile that lasted only a few seconds. "I was _urged_ to attend. A little exploration of the embassy’s hospitality".

Idgrod's eyes flashed in the gloom. She placed her glass down on the narrow lip of the room’s paneling, casting a quick glance over her shoulder. No one was interested in their little corner of the room it seemed, all eyes and all thoughts lay elsewhere. Good. In a single step she abandoned pretense. She grasped the woman’s waist with the hand she had placed there, and twisting pressed the palm of her other into the stone beside Lila shoulder, trapping her in the cage of her arms. Idgrod’s gaze was hard, cold, but her body was warm, and as she pressed her hips forwards she felt the breath hitch in the other woman’s throat. "You're playing a dangerous game" she hissed tilting her forehead forwards, "the Thalmor will eat you alive if they catch you".

Lila could look nowhere else, her pale eyes were forced to meet her dark ones, panic lived within them, laced with a desperation that shook Idgrod’s nerve. With a shudder she shook her head, dark curls catching against the rough stonework behind her. "I have very little choice Idgrod. Please believe that I wouldn't be risking… Not if I…".

"Who? Who is making you do this?" the Nord woman demanded on a whisper that pulled the warm air taut between them. How much the young woman had changed since she had taken her mother’s throne. How much she would still change if she had to.

Lila drew in a breath meant to steady her, but it did little to quell the hammering of her heart. “I cannot say, not even to you.” She cast her eyes down briefly, before glancing over Idgrod’s shoulder. “Not here.”

"What do you need me to do?"

A thick silence pressed the tight knot of breath between their lips. The Imperial woman did not move, she stared with an open look upon her pretty features. “Not this time.” She breathed, voice so strained it might break to desperation in the space of a pointed thought. "I would not have you or Joric harmed by this. I am _your_ Housecarl."

Idgrod smiled softly. Shifting the grasp of her hand to a gentle caress she pressed her fingers to the small of Lila’s back, lifting her away from the cool stone just enough that she could lean close and whisper into her ear. “And you are _mine_.” Punctuating her point, the Jarl lifted her clever fingers to draw a tingling line along the lower curve of her spine. A breathless gasp, stifled at once, blew warm air across Idgrod’s own ear as Lila involuntarily pressed her body against her. “It’s not a choice my darling. You’re going to tell me how I can help you, or I’m taking you back to Morthal tonight.”

She could feel Lila shake her head, but as she began to dance her clever fingers lower the stubborn woman let out the sigh that had been sitting upon her chest and rested her forehead against her strong shoulder. “Promise me you’ll leave the embassy afterwards.” She murmured into the warm curve of the Jarl’s neck. She slid her arms around her, pulling what little space there remained between them into the warmth of her tender embrace. “I want you safe.”

“Not as badly as I want you to be safe.” Idgrod held her close, taking a selfish moment to breathe in the scent of her dark, gently curling hair. Mountain flowers, sea salt, a touch of sweet berries. “You have my word.”

Lila let out an almost imperceptible murmur of fragile relief. Reluctantly Idgrod released her, stepping back just a little so she could once again look upon her face. “A distraction” the Imperial conceded, her skin slightly aglow with a heated flush, her pale eyes sparkling, “can you keep them occupied for a few moments?”

Idgrod indulged in a low chuckle, “Only a few moments?” she asked, “Oh I think I can manage that”.

Lila frowned a warning at her levity, but Idgrod soothed it away with a slow caress as she traced the line of her jaw. She pressed the calloused pad of her thumb to the very corner of her mouth, unable to conceive of all but one thought. It was too soon to love this woman, not with her mother and father, barely a season in their graves, not with Joric so dependent on her. Too soon, and yet, she thought, mother had always schooled her not to fold to other’s standards.

Despite the sanctuary of the shadows around them, Idgrod knew that she could not linger here much longer. Sooner or later someone would notice. But Oblivion take them all if she was going to leave her lover to the Thalmor without some parting gift. She kissed her, deeply, blissfully, but briefly, pulling away with a memory of her warmth and softness before she abandoned her promise and ordered her Housecarl home.

A haze of passion washed across Lila’s face in the briefest of moments, but she drew herself back from it, and away from Idgrod, enough to clear her mind for her troublesome task. “I have to go.” She explained quietly, her pale eyes questing about the room behind Idgrod. Looking and finding something amidst the swarm of nobility and persons of interest the Thalmor had gathered around themselves.

The Jarl caught her sharply as Lila turned to leave, her fingers tight around her wrist. “Come find me in the Blue Palace.” It was an order, plain, and simple. Not as a lover to her darling, but as a Jarl to her Housecarl. “I need to know you’re safe.”

She glimpsed the briefest of conflicts within Lila’s eyes, but it was put aside with a gentle loving smile. “If I can, I will be there tonight.”

Idgrod ached to kiss her again, but instead she let her slide out of her grasp and into the starkly lit expanse of the hall. She watched her until she came to stand at the bar. She was smiling and talking to the dunmer waiter as the servant polished an unused glass.

Taking a calming breath, the young Jarl of Morthal, Idgrod Ravencrone, no longer the younger, strode out into the party, her eyes focused on her unfortunate target, she already knew exactly what she was going to do.

 


	2. Solitude

Solitude was cold. Idgrod’s breath coiled out in long, lingering wisps across the Sea of Ghosts as she sat beside her window in the Blue Palace. She traced the horizon with her dark eyes, following the foaming wake of the trader’s ships as they arrived and departed from the harbor.

It had been three days.

She sighed and turned from the window. The cold made her long for the humid air of the marsh. She walked back over to the hearth. It blazed warmly in the small, but lavishly appointed room. She settled herself down into the chair nearest the flames and watched their dance.

Razelen had come to see her the day after the party. She’d immediately thought to apologize to the poor man, but the wealthy business lord had waved her attempt away.

_“I know why you did it” he said leaning forward an inch or two, his eyes brimming with shared conspiracy. At Idgrod’s prompting he continued. “That lass. The pretty one, with the grey eyes. She snuck out while the crowd was watching our performance.”_

_Idrgod had said nothing. Razelen could have been bluffing. Digging for information for Elenwen, or other paymasters. She would not reveal her hand before he’d revealed his._

_“She a friend of yours?” he asked, smiling in an all to knowing way that achieved little but to make her flesh crawl._

_At Idgrod’s continued silence, he shrugged._

_“Just wondering”, he stopped smiling, some dour mood seeming to instantly subsume his levity. “You heard anything from her recently?”_

_Silence._

_“Look, I’m not a Thalmor lover.” Razelen said, it appeared his patience was running thin as his bushy brow set in a tight frown. “I’m just worried about her. Not many walk out of that place after crossing the ambassador.”_

_Ingrod’s nerves had prickled at that point, Razelen knew more than he’d originally implied. Quietly, wary of the stone walls around them and the ears, pointed and otherwise, they might conceal she asked “What do you know?”_

_Razelen, showing more tact than Idgrod had pegged him master of, tilted his head sharply towards her balcony. They walked out onto the frigid air, the first flakes of a long snow fall catching at their clothing._

_Idgrod turned to the trader, fixing him with a stony glare. “Talk” she demanded, imitating as best she could the harsh tone her mother had frequently used when dealing with such men. She hoped it would mask her growing fears._

_Razelen’s easy manner fell away like spring melt water, and what was left underneath did nothing to lift the tension worry in Idgrod’s chest. Harsh and tired, long lines of bitterness, and a shrewdness which she was certain even Elenwen knew nothing about crisscrossed the man’s face as he looked out towards the distant hills, across the bay, to the mainland, where the very tip of the Thalmor embassy could be seen protruding up from the tree line. Softly he spoke._

_“I always make it a habit to be the last one to arrive at Elenwen’s little soirees, better that way to avoid the awkward small talk and get straight to the drinking. That’s when I met the lovely lady as her carriage was pulling up. Someone had dressed her up to look really nice, but it was obvious that she wasn’t used to the fancy clothes she’d been put into. Nothing too unusual there, I’m not that keen on a high collar or silk shirts if I’m to be honest. Something else was off though, a gut feeling I suppose. Anyway, I escorted the young lady in and set about my usual approach to these parties, drink myself stupid on someone else’s alcohol.”_

_Idgrod did her best with Razelen, too remain patient, to be calm. Yet the gift her mother had always lectured about, that glorious and terrible glimpse beyond the curtain of time, would not let her mind be still. As the man spoke, as she watched the waves, as her numbing fingers gripped the frosted railing of the narrow balcony, she began to see what he described. Before too long she wanted to banish the scene from her senses, but as she closed her eyes tight, she found she could not escape what she saw._

_“I stayed a little longer than I would normally.” Razelen continued. “I was out in the courtyard, tipping the contents of Elenwen’s expensive larder out onto the snow, when a scuffle from across the way catches my attention. I look immediately, its rare for anything at that place to be played out in public, and gossip can be a valuable commodity if you know the right buyer. There were two of those finely polished guards with a woman between them, struggling and kicking like she’s being restrained by Molag Baal himself.”_

_Even with the clarity of two days, the memory of that comparison made Idgrod’s stomach heave. She pressed her eyes shut, kneading the base of her hands into the sockets. It was just a turn of phrase. A foolish exaggerated turn of phrase._

_“Did you see her face?” She had asked. “Was it her?”_

_She’d had to look to him to see his shaking head, he seemed unwilling to bear any verbal certainty on the matter. “They’d pulled a bag over her head. And they didn’t let her linger there long enough for me to get a good look at her dress. Bundle her through the door as quick as they can, then in a matter of minutes out strides Elenwen herself, with the damndest most terrifying look of satisfaction I’ve ever had the poor fortune to witness on that smug face of hers. She pays me no more than a passing sneer before she follows into the door where the guards drag the woman.”_

Razelen had seen no more. He’d been escorted swiftly from the grounds, and sent back to solitude on the back of a cart.

Idgrod watched the flames. She felt the dry heat upon her skin, could almost feel it crack under its ferocity, but she kept her face towards the flame. Not knowing what else she could do to stave of the crumbling of her sanity.

To demand her release would be to plunge her entire hold into conflict with the Thalmor, and by extension the Empire.

It _had_ been Lila. She knew it. She knew as clearly as she knew that the flames would burn her fingers if she let them dance across her skin.

She was the Jarl of Morthal. She could not put her people at risk.

Everything else that she was, beyond her title, wanted to siege the embassy, tear every corner of that wretched place apart. She could not leave Solitude until she had Lila back. Her mind could not conceive of any other possibility. Yet she could do nothing while she sat here.

She had received no more visions. Not after the glimpse she had seen of the courtyard as Razelen had described it. She hated the part of herself that was grateful for that.

 


	3. What will we become?

_“Idgrod, I have someone I want you to meet.”_

_Her mother languished with the air of an arrogant king, yet watched the still hall and it’s occupants like the greatest of hunters, and the wisest of men. Idgrod had not necessarily grown used to her mother’s contradictions, but she had at least out grown her fear of them. She had approached the dais obediently, looking to the strangers who stood before her mother. A man and a woman. A Nord in Wizard’s robes and an Imperial in clothes and light leathers seemingly freshly worn from the road._

_As she neared the strangers had turned to acknowledge her, bowing respectfully. The man was soon forgotten._

_“This is Fallion.” Her mother explained, waving a hand towards the man, who seemed to barely hold in his contempt for the world at large, looking upon all around him with apathetic disdain. “He will be taking the old house by the waterfront.” Her mother concluded. She may have given more details in between, but Idgrod the Younger was not listening, at least not entirely._

_“And this is Lila Cuervo.”_

_The Raven had long been a sigil of their house, a herald of omens, and a bird of the marsh, scratching out it’s survival on the carcasses of those unwise enough to challenge the treacherous landscape. Idgrod had always liked Ravens, had admired them and sort out their nests as a child, eager to watch and observe her name sake, to learn it’s wisdom and it’s secrets. As a teenager she’d fostered the foolish notion of a dark and handsome knight, with fine features and billowing hair the_ _colour_ _of Raven’s feathers, with a soul made of marsh fire, and eye’s the colour of the azure sky._

_Locks of the darkest hair she had ever seen fell in free tumble around the gentle slope of her delicately featured face. Smooth skin, lightly tanned by the southern sun, holding a gentle arch of brow above ghostly grey eyes._

_“I think you should take her as your Housecarl.”_

_Idgrod was drawn violently away from her observations by this and snapped her attention to her mother. The Jarl looked at her with an all too passive, all too knowing expression._

_“She’s a fine warrior, and has proven herself to me to be loyal and trustworthy.”_

_Idgrod looked back to the Imperial woman. She was expected to respond, but what was she supposed to say?_

_The woman, Lila, bowed her head steadily, lifting her pale eyes slowly to meet with Idgrod’s. Waiting for her response. Waiting for her decision that would dictate the rest of this woman’s life._

_Her mother rid her of the burden for the moment. “Take some time to talk with each other.” She advised, with as much warmth as she had ever used in the presence of outsiders. Who was this woman to have so ingratiated herself so quickly with her usually withdrawn and cautious mother._

_A thought crossed Idgrod’s mind, and she looked back to test her suspicions. The man Fallion was being dismissed, leaving the hall with no urgent sense of reverence or respect, but that did not seem to matter. When she caught her mother’s gaze she willed the question to be heard in the confines of the Jarl’s mind. **‘What have you seen? What will this woman become?’** _

_If her mother heard her request, she did not acknowledge it. Silently she too was dismissed, and she did not linger. Eager for the clarity of the cool air of the early evening, eager to clear her muddled mind._

What her mother had seen she’d never told her. She hadn’t had the chance. Or perhaps she didn’t think it necessary. She only ever revealed that she had seen some importance to Lila, that she would greatly aid Idgrod in the future, _if_ she became her Housecarl.

Idgrod allowed herself the smallest of smirks, the first expression that was not laced with fear and worry since leaving the embassy. Had her mother foreseen what _they_ would become?

_The trill of the last chorus echoed out in the lonely twilight. Few in Morthal ventured out at night. Fewer still when the chill of winter began to leave it’s bite on the air. Yet the warblers and finches of the marsh always sang the day to it’s rest. Their duty to the passing of the sun seemed unflinching._

_Since the clearing of the caverns, since Movarth and his brood had been slaughtered, there was no excessive danger to the night. Yet old superstitions took time to die, and the residents of Morthal were extraordinarily good at nurturing superstition._

_Idgrod relished the twilight. It gave her unobserved freedom to roam the town as she liked. There were no citizens to study her future ability to lead them, no guards to ghost her steps, no children to goad her brother…_

_This night she made her way to the bridge, the bold structure of stone and sparse metal that spanned the lazy river whose own languid body split the town in two._

_For, despite the rest of the town cowering from the coming dark, there was one person who did stray out._

_As Idgrod neared the bridge she saw her, her slender frame leant upon the high sides, her neck extended out into the gathering gloom, watching the last burning rays of low winter sunlight ripple upon the slow current of the river._

_Upon hearing her approach Lila tilted her head away from the waters. Idgrod felt the now familiar tightness in her chest pull taut at the sight of her gentle easy smile._

_“Good evening my Lady.”_

_Lila’s distinctly un-Nord like inflections had caught her by surprise at first. She’d had blushed like a fool the first time she had called her that. It still to this day made her legs feel weak, but she had become better at hiding it. The Imperial’s accent however? She dreaded the day she became accustomed to that. Unlike the Legion, whose soldiers seemed to speak in a strange mix of accents picked up from the provinces they’d served in and bundled together into a mess of phrase and inflection, Lila spoke with an accent undiluted by exterior influence. Rich, lilting, and with the ability to turn Idgrod’s heart a flutter with the shortest of sentences._

_“Good evening.” She took up a space beside her, leaning awkwardly on the thick stone, the knot in her belly growing tighter as Lila went back to observing the last moments of the sun._

_A busy silence, filled with the drone of insects and the evening chorus, fell between them. Idgrod clasped her hands in front of her, twisting the small metal ring that bore her houses sigil around her finger nervously. She had promised herself that she would tell her._

_Lila had been here for two seasons now. She’d been sworn as Idgrod’s Housecarl. They spent most days together, performing the steadily increasing duties Idgrod’s mother gave to her daughter. Traveling to Solitude and to Whiterun, checking the outlying settlements of the Hold, talking to the citizens of Morthal. Lila had taken to the ways of the Nord’s Jarls with an almost academic curiosity, questioning topics that seemed the most alien to her, but never in the presence of anyone whom she might offend. She seemed well suited to diplomacy, knowing when to hold her thoughts to herself and when to speak up, often counselling Idgrod herself on such matters._

_In their quiet moments; travelling, winter evenings, or times in which the Jarl ran out of tasks to assign, they settled into an easy friendship, filled with gentle jokes, warmth, and comfortable companionship that Idgrod treasured dearly. And yet…_

_She dared a glance. Lila’s pale eyes were aglow with bright, burning gold. Her rosy lips, thinner than Idgrod’s own, were parted slightly, as she watched the evening with quiet reverence, her raven locks swaying lightly in the almost absent breeze._

_She had not had a lover before. Idgrod had never really found herself presented with an attractive choice, and her mother had never pushed her towards any form of diplomatic marriage. She had never truly felt the urge to seek such intimacies, before Lila._

_It was maddening._

_She found her mind turning to her constantly, her every waking moment consumed by the pull in her body towards her constant companion, always close, but never to touch._

_In her dreams her mind pursued its own fantasies without the restrictions of the waking world. The first time she had dreamt of her, laid across her bed, a light shift all that clothed her beautiful form, her soft eyes heavy lidden with want and lust, beckoning her to touch her, inviting her to embrace her… Idgrod had religiously avoided her all day. Too embarrassed to even look at Lila, not without the image of her weary with want eclipsing her thoughts._

_It was not un heard of for a Jarl to bed their Housecarl. Of course, it was usually men who slept with their female attendants, and it was usually accepted to be an arrangement alongside a marriage, one sort for pleasure over permanence. And their genders did not really matter all that much, not if Joric fathered their houses heirs through a later marriage, or Idgrod formally adopted a child to be declared her own._

_She winced in frustration. Was she really already planning to marry this woman? Was she really being that naive._

_“Are you alright my Lady?” Lila’s gentle lilting voice called her back from her thoughts._

_Idgrod took a deep breath and turned away from the water. “Could we walk awhile… just a little way into the marsh?”_

_A soft frown creased her Housecarl’s brow, “It is getting late, we should really stay within the limits of the town.”_

_“It wouldn’t be far.” Idgrod insisted, disliking immensely the neediness that had slipped into her own voice. “Please. I only want to find somewhere to speak in private.”_

_Lila sparred a glance at their deserted surroundings, but did not voice her skepticism. Instead she nodded, and stepped away from the bridges cooling stone. “Alright.”_

 


	4. Let me prove I am no dream

_Idgrod was true to her word. She did not lead them far. She went only so far as the start of the marsh proper, where the brackish water ate away any obvious semblance of solid land. The town was distant enough that they could neither be seen nor heard by the inhabitants, yet they could still be back within the safety of its torch light within ten minutes or so if needed._

_The sun itself had sank below the horizon by the time they came to stand at the water’s edge. The dulling sky, lightly peppered with the first and brightest stars, softened their surroundings with a dusted, almost eerie, glow._

_There was a tree, felled by someone recently enough for the trunk to be intact, but old enough to have the beginnings of a mossy covering, nearby. Lila went across to it and sat, half crossing her heels, a somewhat strangely courtly gesture for the wilderness, but it did make her seem elegant._

_“So,” She began, her opal eyes catching the last dashes of colour from the fading sky. “What did you want to talk to me about my Lady?”_

_Idgrod felt her tongue swell in her mouth, her hands begin to tremble, and her thoughts to fall into panic. She couldn’t just come out and declare it. She turned away from Lila slightly, looking instead to the surrounding peace of the marsh. Start slow, she schooled herself, start with something simple._

_“Do you like it here?” She found herself asking, and before she could stop herself she added, “with me?”_

_The marsh water lapped soothingly with the changing tide, as the sea of ghosts continued it’s ever flowing cycle. Somewhere in the distance a fish leapt clear of the surface, the splash of it’s return sending out little ripples that eventually made their way to where the two women were, adding it’s power to the gentle tide._

_When Lila replied it was with an air of confusion, but also concern, her words picked carefully. “Yes. I like it very much, and I look forward to my future here.” There was a pause. “If you’ll permit my question my Lady, Do you like me being here? If I have done something wrong I will try my best to amend…”_

_Idgrod span around, horrified that Lila should think for a moment that she was asking her that. “Yes! I don’t mean…” She flushed. “Lila I… I want you to be here. I…” Her words ran dry._

_The Imperial woman studied her from her seat upon the tree, her confusion plain, but glinting below the surface, shimmering in the light of the emerging moons, she thought she saw a slither of understanding._

_“Then…” Lila said quietly. “What is it you really want to ask me?”_

_Idgrod opened her mouth, and found that she could not speak. She balled her fists tightly, and let her frustrations surface in a suppressed exasperated growl, turning back to the marsh. Why had the visions not show her how this ended? The one time she would have welcomed the pain they always brought, and she had not been witness to any such glimpses since the spring._

_“Are you alright?”_

_“Yes!” Idgrod snapped. She hated herself immediately, “Dammit!” she muttered, knotting her hands together before unfurling them and knotting them together again. The last thing she wanted was this. To be angry at her, yet here she was, and her frustration was only fueling the growing fire._

_She heard Lila stand, the scuff of her boots as she cautiously approached, concern radiating off her like warmth from the sun. She did not speak, she did not try to broach the air again._

_“I…” Idgrod began once more, biting out her words, forcing them to manifest. She would not lead them back to town until she said it. “I want… us to be…”_

_The word felt wrong, felt forced and contrived and more than a little bit contaminated, even as it sat on the tip of her tongue._

_“…Idgrod…” Lila was closer than she’d realized, standing within easy reach. Only a stride away. A single step._

_The daughter of the Jarl Morthal made her decision. There amidst the marsh of her inheritance, beside the woman who for better or for worse had pledged her future to the service of her line, the woman she could not drive from her thoughts. Idrgod decided that if she could not force words to express what she wanted she would have to bypass them._

_She twisted round and took that single step. When Lila instinctively tried to step back, Idrgod caught her shoulders holding her in place. When with the grace betraying her meager experience, she pressed her mouth to her Housecarl’s and kissed her._

How long ago it felt. There beneath the birthing stars, flushed with her embarrassment, horrified by her own forwardness. Yet if Idgrod closed her eyes, she could still recall the shudder that came over her when Lila kissed her back.

‘The first of so many.’ She whispered to the coiling smoke of the fire, her eyes pressed lightly closed as she brought forth another memory, a precious one.

_The rooms at the Blue Palace were always kept blissfully warm. A request of the High Queen, it was said. Servants in the bowels of the building kept the fires burning with a constant vigilance, ferrying timber and coals to every room with a hearth, tending to each and every flame with the greatest of care. It was one of many things Idgrod always enjoyed about their stays here._

_Another? The complete and utter privacy from the prying eyes of her parents and the people of Morthal that the thickly walled rooms allowed._

_She watched her, the softened edges of her body that her night shift created, as Lila bolted the door to the guest room for night. She was a fighter, Idgrod could attest to that, she had seen off dangers more times than she’d been able to count. But her talent did not lie in raw strength. No. As any representative of the Ravencrone house should, Lila’s true talent lay in her mind. She was always two steps ahead of her opponents, sliding her well-aimed strikes right past any guard they had hoped to erect._

_It had surprised Idgrod, the first time she had realized that she was in fact physically stronger than her. She’d quickly put it down to her Nord heritage, and quietly reveled in the advantage it gave her in more intimate matters. Despite all appearances and impressions, some of which she actively fostered, Idgrod was not a passive partner._

_Stalking silently up behind the unsuspecting Imperial, she deftly snaked her arms around her waist, savoring the breathless gasp this drew from her. She pressed a kiss to the side of her neck and drew her tightly into her body._

_“It’s been too long since we were truly alone.” She murmured into the warm sweet smelling skin beneath her lips._

_Lila melted back into her touch, laying her hands atop of Idgrod’s, assenting softly as Idgrod began to walk her back towards their waiting bed. They fell into the luxurious furs and blankets in a tangle of limbs. Lila was the first to right herself, finding Idgrod’s lips, kissing her deeply, her breath hot, her touch tender as she stroked her face._

_Idgrod ran her hands across Lila, reaching round to her back where she curled her fingers ever so slightly to drag the tips of her nails down her spine. A quiver forced her to break the kiss as she arched her body. A smirk crossed the Ravencrone’s tingling lips as she reveled in the power of her caress. In a twist of her legs she pressed the Imperial down into the embrace of the bed. She sat astride her hips, and paused just for a moment, her hands upon her waist feeling her every labored breath through her finger tips._

_“I dreamt of this, a long time ago.” She explained, drinking in the sight. Her flushed skin, her heavy-lidded lust, the slight parting of her rosy lips as little gasps escaped her. “By the eight, you’re beautiful.” She whispered, scarcely daring to speak any louder lest she wake herself up._

_Lila smiled, a delicate, precious little smile that beckoned Idgrod into her arms surer than any tether. “Kiss me.” She whispered back. “Let me prove I am no dream.”_

She looked over to that space now. That bed heaped with the softest furs and the warmest blankets, bathed in the flickering light of the fire. That was the night, the night Lila had said those fatal three words. The same ones that Idgrod had used against her at the embassy. Her skin aglow with her released passions, her arms wrapped around Idgrod’s own quaking form as she recovered, on her soft swollen lips Lila whispered…

_“I am yours.”_

Tears fell silently down the Jarl’s cheeks, leaving hot trails in there wake, her mind unable to halt their coming. She should have told her, that night in the shadows of the ambassador’s party, whilst the taste of her kiss was still on her lips.

“I love you.”

Her words died in the air, without even the empty space to form an echo.

 


	5. Where were you?

“She’s coming.”

Idgrod looked up sharply from the papers spread across the war table, her brow furrowing deeply as she looked over to her brother.

“What?”

It had been a long day, Tulius had been plaguing her for more support in the war, a war which like her mother before her, she hoped to keep her people out of. She had parried his attempts since sun rise, laying down the numerous and well-founded reasons she could not justify sending her men into battle when the actual war was being fought far to the south. Their northern borders would be left defenseless, and her hold vulnerable. In the end she had conceded only that she would send supplies of food and medicines, no more, no less.

Politics exhausted her. For all her addled mind could fathom Joric may just have well been speaking in Aldmeri for all the sense it made to her.

Her little brother had just begun his adolescent growth spurt in earnest. He would not be so little for much longer. With every passing day he looked more and more like their father, and steadily he seemed to be gaining some semblance of control over his far-sight. Yet, in many ways he was the same sweet lad he had always been, and he still became lost in his own mind on occasion.

He fixed her now with their mother’s long suffering stare, so accurately it made the hairs on her neck prickle. Then slowly, enough so that she might consider him to be trying, he said “She’s coming. _Lila_ is coming.”

Idgrod froze in place, her eyes wide, her mouth pressed into a tight thin line. “You’re certain?” She urged in a hiss.

Joric nodded, tilting his head ever so slightly, as if listening to something nearby.

“When?” Idgrod did not care that her voice broke when she asked, she didn’t care that tears were fresh in her eyes, her brother had seen her cry before, he would not judge her for it.

True to her faith in him, Joric simply answered her question. “Today. She’s close.”

Idgrod sobbed, clutching her closed fist tightly over the space where her heart had been.

She had had to return to Morthal after the twelfth day.

Joric had written, she was needed as Jarl of the hold. Her duty crushed the needs of her heart, and she had left Solitude.

Razelen had been left with instruction to contact her should anything change, if he heard even the faintest rumor, he was to send word at once. She had not received anything but apologies for thirty-nine days.

Joric had known better than to ask about Lila. He seemed to know what had happened, perhaps he knew more than his sister did. Many mornings he emerged from his room pale, unable to eat more than a bite before retreating to privy to relieve himself of the food. He would not say what he’d seen.

The night their parents had died, it had been Lila who had held him as he screamed. It had been her soft and soothing hands that had pulled back his sweat soaked hair and eased him from his terrible nightmares.

Idgrod had been forced to lead her people, forced to pick up a populous in shock and drive them onto their feet, press them forward. She had only allowed herself to mourn her parents when she finally collapsed into her bed, then she let Lila care for her, hold her, make love to her as she needed, as she had asked, till at last the tears flowed freely.

She was alive. By the eight she was alive.

Joric got her to her rooms by some feat of coercion Idgrod could not fathom, for when she came to her senses she found herself curled into the familiar furs, her cheeks still damp with her tears. She sat slowly, yawning, though she doubted she had actually slept. What had roused her? The hall was silent as far as she could tell, yet there was some disquiet to the air here.

She pulled herself from her bed, her bare feet coiling against the cold of the stone floor. Finding her wash cloth in the almost perfect gloom of her quarters, she attempted to scrub the worst of the tear stains from her face. It would not do for any of her people to see her like this. Strength and security was required, not a love sick fool who’d failed to keep her emotions in check once again.

As satisfied as she could be without the light to see herself in the mirror, Idgrod put the cloth aside, walked to the heavy wooden door and pushed it slowly open.

The main hall was cast in a warm glow, there was a fire in the pit at its center, wood smoke and embers scenting the air. It must have been late. Joric must have gone to sleep. The guards were instructed to retreat to the outer passageways at night, affording them some small semblance of privacy from their constant watch even if only for a few hours.

So, there should have been no one in the main hall. Yet, silhouetted by the low flames, there was. Idgrod blinked blearily, eager to clear the gloom from her eyes. The shadow before the flames turned to her, noticing her approach, remaining perfectly anonymous until with a shaking voice they spoke.

“Idgrod?”

The Jarl’s knees buckled beneath her and she collapsed to the floor.

At once the figure swept towards her, warm trembling hands cupping her face, pale eyes wet with tears looking down into hers.

Idgrod reached out weakly, her hands hesitantly resting on the curve of their hips, then, assured of their solidity she drew her close. “It wasn’t a dream.” She stuttered, every movement becoming surer, every touch more certain. “Joric did see you. You’re really here?”

Lila, her beautiful Lila, with her pale eyes, her lightly sun dusted skin, and her Raven black hair, smiled through the tears that streamed down her face. “Yes.” She choked softly. “Yes, I am my dear. I’m here. I’m so sorry, I couldn’t get away…”

Idgrod’s lips halted her explanation. All the memories, the two months they had been apart, the fear that she might be rotting in some Thalmor cell, she pushed it all into the kiss.

Her lips were as she remembered, soft, warm, her breath hot, her gasps and shudders, all as she remembered and at the same time so much more.

“I love you.” She said as they parted.

Lila’s pale eyes widened, and for a heartbeat she seemed lost for words. Once the heart beat was over she said the only words she could think of, the only words she wanted to say. “I love you too.”

Idgrod kissed her again, her touch questing about her body, eager to assure herself that every inch of her was real, was really there. Lila was so responsive to her touch, her breath hitching, her body pressing against her, just as desperate to find solidity and reassurance.

“I need…” Idgrod gasped between their increasingly rushed kisses, her hands seeking ways to find Lila’s skin, to feel the heat there that proved she was alive.

The Imperial nodded breathless, glancing towards Idgrod’s quarters, to the door still slightly ajar and the darkness within. How they collected enough sense to stand, let alone enter Idgrod’s rooms, close the door and find her bed in the sudden all consuming darkness, neither could fathom.

“I need to see you.” Idgrod explained as she parted briefly from Lila’s arms, searching in the gloom for her lantern. She found the cool glass and metal with her quivering finger tips, and summoned a small lick of flame to light the tallow. The warm glow that emanated spilled across her bed, picking out the woman she loved from amidst the twists of half discarded clothing and rucked bedding.

Fresh tears prickled in her eyes as she looked down upon her, as her hands met the warmth of her dear, darling face. “Gods…” she sobbed, tracking her fingers across every detail. “…You’re here. I love you. I love you so much.” She sealed her promise with a tear stained kiss.

The worn clothes of many a day’s travel proved only a fleeting barrier to Idgrod. She found the clasps, ties and bindings, easing all open, peeling back the layers, kissing the first inch of flesh, and then every inch after. There were new scars. She studied each carefully, taking their measure, trailing her finger tips along their puckered edges. Each one held a story, but for another time.

Lila’s own slender fingers slipped beneath her raiment, familiar with their design, knowing every fold intimately. Idgrod shuddered as the cold air found her skin, but such discomfort was soon forgotten when Lila drew her close once again.

It was such sweet comfort to feel the length of her body, pressed neatly upon the length of hers. They held each other as close as they could, tucking into the undulations of the other, fitting neatly together, not a thing in excess or decline.

“I dreamt of you.” Lila whispered against her neck, the warmth of her breath flowing across Idgrod’s skin. “Every time I closed my eyes I dreamt of this,” she kissed the hollow of her shoulder, letting her lips linger. “I dreamt of you.”

“Where were you?”

She had determined another time for questions, but she could not abide. Idgrod needed to know what had happened, why fresh scars peppered her lover’s body, why she had been without her for the last two months.

The sigh that uncoiled within her seemed to loosen every muscle within Lila’s body. Gently she eased away from Idgrod’s embrace, leaning up, so that their eyes might meet. “Have you heard of the Blades?” She asked, her voice soft, her fingers tracing a slow pattern of easy circles upon the surface of her breast bone. 

Idgrod nodded.

 


	6. Particular Tastes

“They’re operating now, in Skyrim, from a place called Sky Haven Temple. That is where I was, these last few weeks. Ever since the embassy, I was there.”

A thousand thoughts rushed upon Idgrod, chief among them was the realization that Lila had not been a prisoner of the Thalmor, at least not for the entire time. “What happened? Was this why you first left us?”

It had been late Autumn. Almost half a year since her parents had died, when her loyal Housecarl came to her one night, and after they had made love, asked her for permission to leave the hold for a time. The only explanation, that a letter had arrived from Whiterun, from Danica at the temple of Kyne, and that Lila must attend to some matter there.

Reluctantly Idgrod had let her go. She did not wish to be her jailor, she had loved her then, she had loved her for many months, she had just simply not yet realized it. Letters arrived with every trader, filled with promises to return when she could, tender words of comfort and affection for both Idgrod and Joric. But she had never mentioned exactly what was happening, where she was, what was keeping her from home. Idgrod had pined for her it was true, she had longed for her dearly, but with every letter she knew she was safe, that she missed her just as much, so she put aside her lovesickness and carried on as she could. Until the night at the Embassy, when Idgrod had seen her errant Housecarl garbed in the finest dress she had ever seen her wear, her raven locks bound up in an old Imperial style, her pale eyes watchful and wide with fear.

Lila slid her hand down her Jarl’s body, till it rested pleasantly between the swells of her pale breasts, above the pulse of Idgrod’s heart. “Danica wanted to restore the Gildergreen. She asked for my help. I thought…” She hesitated, her eyes flitting down, looking to her own fingers briefly. “…I thought if we could restore the Tree then perhaps the temple would receive a blessing, and that perhaps they might be able to help Joric.”

“So, you left for Whiterun to help Joric?” Idgrod asked trying to keep the hurt from her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lila splayed her fingers slowly, caressing her skin. “I didn’t know if it would work, I didn’t want to torture you with false hope. And I knew you would have prevented me from leaving if you knew what was required.”

“I can guess that it was dangerous?” Idgrod’s voice was dangerously soft, she curled her fingers just so at the base of the Imperial’s spine, knowing the spot to be an area of exceptional weakness to her.

Lila’s eye lids fluttered shut and she sucked in a harsh breath through her teeth. “Yes. Yes, it was.”

“What happened next? I assume the attempt failed?”

“No.” Her raven curls bounced as she shook her head. “No, the Gildergreen is reborn, just a seedling now, but in a few lifetimes, it will stand as beautiful as it ever was.”

“Then, why did you not return? How did you become involved with the Blades?”

“A dragon attacked Whiterun.”

The tale that Lila told was long, arduous, and Idgrod would not have believed it if it had fallen from another’s lips

“Dragonborn?” Idgrod whispered, staring up at her.

“Yes.” The somber resignation in which Lila’s replied told Idgrod more of her feelings on the revelation than a thousand words. When she spoke again there was an edge to her mood, a hurt that she was attempting to bury. “The Blades are supposed to guide the Dragonborn. Help them on their ‘path’. The… Leader, she was certain that the Thalmor were behind the dragon attacks.”

Idgrod scoffed. The Empire and Ulfric would already have fallen if that were true. “So, they sent you to the Embassy, to confirm that their suspicions were utter idiocy?”

Lila nodded. “After I slipped away from the party, I found Elenwen’s offices, piled high with reports and missives from her network. She watches everything Idgrod. She has sheathes of notes on all the Jarls, on you, on Joric, on me.”

“Why did they not recognize you at the party then?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps Elenwen thought I was accompanying you?” A shadow fell across her face. “She saw us that night, she watched as you kissed me.”

A chill seized the Nord’s spine when she thought of it, those golden eyes watching them from across the crowded party, calculating how to use such information.

“The guards found me as I was trying to leave, they took me to the dungeons below Elenwen’s tower. She came to see just who they had found a little while later.”

“Razelen saw you.” Idgrod explained quietly, holding her tightly, dreading what would come next.

Lila seemed surprised but let the emotion wash from her expression swiftly as she told Idgrod what had transpired in that cold, dank cell.

_“So it’s true?” The Altmer looked down upon her with a sneer so precisely adjusted to disdain she must have designed every facet of its function. She held Lila’s face up, pressing the manicured nail of her thumb into the tight bone of her jaw till the bound woman winced. “Ravencrone’s little whore is in collusion with the enemies of the empire.”_

_The blood drained from Lila’s face, her stomach plummeted, and she looked up at the sadistic woman in horror._

_Elenwen bared her white teeth in a serpentine smile. “If you don’t want your mistress to suffer for your betrayal you’ll tell me who your co-conspirators are.” With her other hand, her skin gleaming in the poor light, the ambassador began to soothe out the knots and tangles in Lila’s hair, taking great care to tease out a few curls to rest against her paling face._

_Lila saw one of the Guards who had dragged her down to the cells, shift his weight, nervously, his shadowed brow furrowing as he watched his leaders actions with a good soldier’s silence._

_“Tell me what I want to know Lila Cuervo.”_

_Lila’s attention was immediately demanded by the ambassador as she raked her nails sharply across her scalp, violently yanking her head back. Her throat felt tight, exposed, as Elenwen pondered her again, the same smile never having left her slightly parted lips. When she drew her nails across the delicate skin Lila whimpered despite her best efforts to remain silent._

_“Madame Ambassador…” The Guard, who had reacted before, took a half step into the cell._

_“Silence!” Elenwen snapped, turning sharply to fix the man with a cold glare, twisting Lila jarringly in the process. “Unless you wish to be the one I assign to make her talk, you will hold your tongue, or leave if you don’t have the stomach to stay.”_

_The Guard, young from what Lila could tell, by Aldmeri standards anyway, pulled himself back once more, the grip on his sheathed sword tight, his knuckles shaking._

_“Now,” Elenwen declared, turning back to her bound and helpless form thoughtfully. “Are you going to tell me what I want to know Lila?”_

_Realizing that in her current contortion the mere act of breathing was difficult the ambassador eased her grip, just a little, just enough that Lila could gasp her response._

_“You know I can’t.”_

_A soft hum left the Altmer woman, accenting in some small content way to Lila’s point. “You are correct of course.” She admitted removing her nails from her throat and instead laying the pads of her long fingers along the points of her pulse. “You are dismissed.”_

_There was a silence that followed. It took another hard glare from the ambassador to inform the Guards exactly which party she was dismissing. They left, though from the corner of her eye Lila could see them hesitate, the younger one in particular seemed especially torn. Duty won out, and Lila heard the heavy bolt slowly slide across its fixture, barring the stairway to the rest of the embassy._

_They were alone._


End file.
